Shades of Silver and Black

LYRA'S HEELS CLICKED ON THE BROKEN COBBLESTONES that made up the area surrounding the quaint pond near their cottage. She smiled at nothing in particular before crouching down, a miracle feet considering the form-fitting violet dress she paired with the heels. Lucius smiled because she was smiling. Then, he followed her action, knee cap nearly touching the grass as he sat on the end of his pristine, leather shoes; with both of them taking care to not allow their clothes to touch the soil.

He followed her gaze to where a patch of pink Valerian was growing beside the pond. Due to the magic fertiliser and blossoming spells that the House Elves had taken the time to apply around and on the cottage, flowers of various kinds were rendered evergreen, always blooming. The unique thing about the sight was, right in the middle of the miniature field of straight, hollow stems topped with umbrella-like heads of blushing pink, was a single, bright red rose. Suddenly, he understood her fascination with that sight.

"According to the Greeks, the other gods had wanted to have Aphrodite, the goddess of love, have a taste of her own potion, as the saying goes," Lucius began in a whisper as Lyra hummed to signal that she was listening to his words, "So, they got Eros, Aphrodite's son, to make her fall in love with a mortal man named Adonis. Their love was the kind that poets composed sonnets for. Loads of complications aroused in between and there are different versions to this myth, but the one that I prefer is that one day, Ares, Aphrodite's lover, sent a wild boar, which is one of his sacred animals, astray to trample poor Adonis. Aphrodite was distraught as she watched this occur from the heavens and quickly flew down to earth in a chariot pulled by doves. As she ran across the field to reach Adonis, she pricked her foot with a thorn, freeing blood. And it was that blood, when touched by the petals of a white rose, became red. Thus, it is considered a symbol of love since the colour is said to have come from the goddess of love herself."

Lyra tilted her head sideways to meet his eyes. Raven black hair pulled back from her face to reveal the sharp lines of her cheekbones and the deep dimples she was flashing in his direction. "That is a wonderful story," she commented, fixing her gaze back onto the flowers. "But I think, if I had to choose between a red rose or a wildflower, I would pick wildflowers."

Lucius' brows bunched up. "Why so? Red roses are far superior to look at and can be symbolic in so many ways. Look at its thorns, look at the rose. We can either be dismayed that these beautiful roses have thorns or rejoice that thorns have such beautiful roses."

"That's nice, but I still like wildflowers more." Lyra neatly plucked the stem of one of the soft pink wildflowers, its sweet scent mixing with that of the wind. "It's wonderful, isn't it? How despite being stepped on, they still bloom. It's lovely, according to me, how wildflowers allow themselves to grow in all the places one would never think they would. Humans and wildflowers have a lot in common, or at the very least, humans have a lot to learn from wildflowers."

"They do, indeed," Lucius agreed, rising to his feet.

Lyra smiled at him before tearing the stem of another flower so that she held two within her hands. Lucius stretched a hand towards her, ever the gentleman.

Using her free hand that wasn't clasping the stem of two bunches of wildflowers, Lyra linked it with his, using it as a rope to hoist herself upwards in a flare of deep purple taffeta.

When her feet were once again planted to the ground, the curvature of Lyra's lips resembled a crescent moon as she separated the duo of valerians she held in her hand. Then, she gently placed one of the bunch of wildflowers behind Lucius' ear while sticking the other one behind hers.

Lucius' pale eyebrows knitted into a frown even as he smiled amusedly. "What was that?"

Lyra shrugged, looping her arm into his, proceeding to initiate a walk around the estate. "It felt like the correct time for it."

"For putting flowers behind our ears?"

"For putting wildflowers behind our ears," Lyra corrected, prompting Lucius to fondly shake his head.

They walked with silence as their companion, lost in their own thoughts while offhandedly listening to the buzzing bees and fleeting flies as they crowded around the lilacs, rose, valerians and other flowers along with the song that the trees hummed in response to the wind.

"Oh!" Lucius' voice cut through the peace as he swivelled towards Lyra, halting his steps. "I cannot believe I nearly forgot to tell you."

"Tell me what?" Lyra asked with an inclination of her head, eyes darting towards his platinum hair, where the valerian flower was still tucked behind his ear, wondering for a weak moment if despite her having bought him hair-gel just yesterday if it had already gotten over.

"I might not be coming home for a while starting Monday, which is tomorrow. An expedition on Machu Picchu is happening and I was fortunate enough to have been selected for it. So, I might have to camp out there for about a month-- till Yule, I suppose?" Lucius shunned his soft gaze downwards. "I'm so sorry, Lyra. I know that these travels were supposed to be about us spending time together, knowing each other better but--"

"--Nonsense, Lucius," Lyra protested instantly, internally relieved that her initial assumption was false. Firmly, she added, "The point of your Heir travels was for you to learn about things that you are passionate about-- to discover and explore opportunities that you wouldn't have been presented with back in Britain. Despite me having hijacked this, the initial reason still stands. The whole purpose behind all of this --being in a different continent from our families-- is so that we can grow as individuals, to expand our knowledge bases and truly master our skills. Us spending time with each other, receiving god-sent blessings to learn more about each other is just a bonus."

Lyra inhaled a breath, slowly exhaling as she told him, "I'm not going to hold you back, Lucius, I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if I did. This is your career, your life. You are the only one who has to have a say in these matters so don't ever apologise for it. Yes, I'll miss you during these days that we'll be apart but that's completely alright because --at the risk of sounding obtuse or childish-- love transcends space and time. These few days apart are going to be nothing in comparison to all the lovely days we'll be able to spend in each other's company. So don't apologise, just have fun."

Lucius hugged her, arms wrapped around her waist and head resting on her shoulders as she unhesitantly returned his embrace. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. She understood nevertheless.

"So, an expedition, huh?" Lyra started when they broke apart and resumed walking. "There will be a lot of dirt. I pity your clothes and your hair."

"I'll be wearing a lot of repelling charms, worry not," Lucius assured; although Lyra wasn't sure if he was attempting to comfort her or himself. "Everything will be fine."

"Yes, it will," Lyra readily agreed because, at that moment, she hadn't known what her family had been up to, the woes that were badgering them, or just how much her home country had fallen under the influence of the Dark Lord.

The hospital that Lyra was working at in Peru had pastel wallpapers with tiny, gold flower details that had been enchanted to respond to the weather outside. When the breezes were strong, the flowers --although rooted to their spot-- would be seen dancing to the wind. During thunderstorm nights, the petals would look damp while in the mornings, they would be coated with dew.

Lyra found herself admiring these gorgeous wallpapers absentmindedly, making a mental note to design and enchant such wallpapers when she had a house of her own.

Sara, her colleague, noticed her staring at the walls once again and giggled, capturing her attention. "You really like flowers, do you not?" She asked in Spanish. Had Lyra not have studied the complex magic required to use translation runes, both she and Lucius would have been clueless the moment they stepped out of England.

"A little bit." Was Lyra's half-smiling response.

Sara released a disbelieving hum, pointedly eyeing the small bunch of little, pink flowers; the stem of which had been tucked behind Lyra's ear, reminding the latter that she had, indeed, not discarded them before starting her evening shift at work. Offhandedly, she wondered if Lucius had also forgone to remove them.

Unknown to her, Lucius hadn't. Initially, it had been accidentally but after someone had had the nerve to laugh at him for donning the flowers, he had taken it up with pride, retorting something along the lines of, "Yes, I'm wearing flowers and no, I'm not ashamed of them. My fiancée gave me those --a pleasant change to the societal obligation that men should be the one to give their partners flowers-- and I am very happy about that. Did your partner give you flowers? No? Yes, I didn't think so."

Presently, Sara smiled. Then, abruptly sombreness washed over her face as she asked, "You are from Britain, correct?"

"I am," Lyra affirmed.

"Your country is going through hard times. I hope your family is safe." Sara told her softly.

Lyra smiled sadly. "I hope so as well."

"At least one of the Death Eaters was killed yesterday," Sara chirped. "That's one step closer to bringing light into the darkness. I am happy about that. Now, at least, the families of all the victims that they had slain along with the deceased victims themselves can finally rest in peace, knowing that justice has been served. I will keep your country in my prayers during these woe-filled times."

Sara had stated it reassuringly, to flames the fire of hope, but Lyra was frozen with fear, and not for the reasons Sara assumed she was.

The words, "One of the Death Eaters were killed yesterday," repeated itself in her head like a casually cruel chant. All Lyra could concentrate on was that Bella was a Death Eater.

Realising that Sara was staring at her with concern, Lyra blinked away the intrusive thoughts, forcing a smile. "Are there any English newspapers nearby?"

"In the waiting room, I think," Sara responded and Lyra dashed towards it, frantically flipping through the pile of newspapers that were put on display beside the chairs in the waiting room, grabbing the Daily Prophet as soon as she spotted it and turning the pages, grey gaze scanning the pages for the words, Death Eater.

When she found it, it was a small article squished towards the bottom corner of the second-to-last page. Apparently, Gilderoy Lockheart winning the 'Most Charming Smile' award was more important than the announcement of a person sinking into hell.

Without her conscious knowledge, Lyra seated herself on one of the empty chairs as she began reading, standing out like a rose in a patch of wildflowers with her stormy grey healer robes in a room of sick patients and their desperate families.

She had been purposely ignoring reading newspapers of all kinds ever since she left Britain to avoid gaining knowledge on how the powerful purebloods were being turned into puppets of Voldemort. The lack of time due to her being busy with healing, exploring and Lucius also greatly helped.

Her face grew relieved as she read the name of the Death Eater, Otis Selwyn, causing her to practically slumped into her seat. Bella wasn't hurt. Bella wasn't killed. Bella wasn't dead. Lyra chanted those three lines in her head like a mantra to stabilise her and prevent herself from spiralling into darkness because to her, that was all that mattered.

Then, she remembered who she was and straightened her spine. Had her Grandmother Melania been there to see her sit in such an undignified manner, Lyra was sure she would have been put into etiquette classes again, making her mentally shudder. Having had to attend them once was bad enough. Lyra was sure she would lose what was left of her fragile sanity should she have to go through that level of hell again.

Absent-mindedly, Lyra's eyes ran along the length of the newspaper's page, pointedly ignoring the other small article about how a muggleborn's family had been slaughtered at the break of dawn the previous day. One news-item, in particular, caught her attention, only because it painted the House of Avery in a less than pleasant light and more concerningly, involved Lyra's favourite restaurant, the Golden Chimera.

Frowning, Lyra swept through the large article.

The Ambiguous Case of Lady Avery

By Melissa Jackson.

Muggle Author William Shakespeare once said, "There is something rotten in the state of Denmark," and while Denmark is on a high trend graph with respect to the economy, the same cannot be said about the Most Ancient and Noble House of Avery.

Earlier this day, the much-beloved Golden Chimera restaurant transformed into a crime scene.

The mutated body of Lady Elsbeth Avery was seated on one of the chairs when the workers opened the restaurant in the morning. The coroner estimates her time of death to be in the twilight hours and declares that although werewolf bites and marks were prominently seen throughout her skin, the cause of her death was poison-- a slow kind which paralysed her body, rendering her unable to defend herself from the werewolf before stopping her heart.

The Aurors refused to comment while the victim's family were apparently grieving and too distraught to comment. However, this reporter has heard from a source who wishes to remain anonymous that this murder might have been committed by a werewolf, but under the orders of a close family member.

After doing a little bit of digging, it has been unveiled that the late Lady Avery had a lot of enemies-- most of which belonged to her own family. Starting from her husband who breathes infidelity, one of his thirty-three mistresses (that we know of) and the product of their affairs, the list of those who obtained a grudge against Lady Avery is a long one. Not to mention, the stocks of the Golden Chimera had been at an all-time low recently despite a new majority share-holder having emerged, so this could also be the work of revenge by some of their competitors and also--

"--ra! Lyra!"

Lyra swivelled, startled, to meet Sara's face, who asked, "Are you alright? You looked quite... quite something as you read the newspaper. You even left our conversation abruptly. Are you sure that you are fine?"

"Of course I am," Lyra answered instantly.

Sara looked unsure but she slowly nodded her head in acceptance. "I forgot why I approached you initially but here--" she handed Lyra a file of documents that she had been carrying with her-- "this contains all the records of your patient's previous health conditions. He came in through the emergency room, so he's already undergone the basic check-up and a full-body scan. The results of that are provided on the front page, as always. He is in room 134."

Lyra accepted the file, rising from the chair she had been sitting on while simultaneously dropping the newspaper that she had been holding. She quickly flashed Sara a grateful smile before marching towards the patient's room, reading the file with frowned brows during her journey.

Upon reaching room 134, Lyra gripped the handle, swinging the door open and walking inside with a pleasant smile plastered onto her face.

"Hello, Jaun." She greeted the little boy on the bed, standing beside his bed before nodding her head in acknowledgement to his worried parents.

Jaun sneezed, mumbling a quiet response. His dark hair looked like it had been recently cut while his eyes sparkled with the kind of joy only a child could possess. At first glance, he looked completely healthy.

Still smiling, Lyra introduced, "I'm Healer Black, but you can call me Lyra. Are you--"

"--You sound funny," Jaun blurted out, juxtaposing Lyra's initial assumptions regarding his personality.

Jaun's mother looked aghast by her son interrupting the healer, releasing an exasperated exclaim of, "Jaun!"

"That's alright, I get that a lot," Lyra assured his parents before informing Jaun, "I live very far away and speak in a different language. I'm using some translation magic right now, that's why I sound funny."

"Oh."

Lyra laughed lightly. "Yeah... Anyway, Jaun, is it alright if I ask you a couple of questions?"

Jaun sneezed. Then he shrugged his shoulders in reply before looking hopeful. "Could I play with my toy dragon afterwards?"

"Of course," Lyra replied, receiving a toothless smile from the boy.

Clearing her throat, Lya proceeded to ask him some standard questions like how he was feeling; when he had been plagued with his case of sneezes, and such; before moving on to ask him some specific questions that could solidify her diagnostic assumptions. Afterwards, Lyra conducted some simple tests with a wave of her wand paired with asking Jaun to perform a few basic actions like standing up, jumping, dancing, etc.

When she was done, she tossed Jaun a beam and a "Good job!" compliment, told him that he could play with his toy dragon and then asked Jaun if she could borrow his parents for a minute. Jaun, too busy, imitating a dragon, agreed unhesitantly. Lyra gesticulated towards the door with her head, walking to the hallway with Jaun's parents trailing after her.

"Is Jaun going to be alright?" Was the first thing that Jaun's father, Carlos, said to her.

Lyra pursed her lips, shunning her gaze downwards and whispering, "I'm so sorry."

Carlos looked crestfallen while a sob escaped Jaun's mother, Maria's, lips. "I-- I don't understand. How can Jaun not be alright? We brought him to the hospital because he kept sneezing. He had no fever, no cold, nothing. But then, the emergency room said that he needed to have a room of his own and now you are saying that--" Maria inhaled a sharp breath, and with wobbling lips, repeated, "How can Jaun not be alright?"

"I'm so sorry," Lyra stated emphatically again. "Your son has dragon pox."

"Dragon pox is curable," Carlos said instantly. "I had it when I was younger myself."

"You had the common one," Lyra told them softly. "The variant of dragon pox that Jaun has is very rare and unfortunately, fatal. A cure hasn't been found yet. There have only been fifty-seven documented cases, excluding that of your son's."

"And-- And what happened to them? The others who had it?" Maria asked. "Why are you using past tense?"

Lyra smiled sadly. "I'm so sorry."

Maria released a sound that could only be described as heart-breaking, burying her distraught face into her husband's chest who had tears streaming himself.

"Jaun's skin isn't green," Carlos insisted. "Neither does he appear weak or tired. How can it be dragon pox then?"

"As I said, your son has a virulent variety of it. The symptoms of it are sneezes without allergies, fever, or anything. Rough skin, like the scales of a dragon-- something that your son has--"

"--We thought it was because of the weather," Maria's trembling tone voiced.

Lyra smiled sadly again, resuming to speak, "Your son is very active but if you noticed, he had trouble jumping and even when he danced, his footing was very slow and forced. He's slowly losing control of his foot. Paralysis is also a symptom, along with hair-fall. I noticed your son has a receding hairline despite being so young. I've conducted one of the tests. The second one is a potion that he'll have to take to confirm the diagnosis, but at this point, it doesn't look like anything else. I'm so sorry."

For the next few minutes, neither Carlos nor Maria could form coherent sentences, their attempts being blurred out by their yells and tears. Lyra just stood there, eyes fixed to the floor, unable to offer anything but futile, comfort words.

Then, Carlos quiveringly asked, "How much time does he have?"

"The longest victim lived for seven years after having been affected by the disease."

"And the shortest?"

Lyra pressed her lips together. "Seven seconds after being diagnosed."

Her response acted as a switch for the cries and yells to resume. Between her tears, Maria voiced, "How much time do you think Jaun will have?"

"Honestly, it's too early to be determined. It depends on how he responds to the treatments. But..."

"But what?" Maria quizzed with hope.

Lyra hesitated before she confessed, "This variant has a reputation for making the victims eyes become green slits, just like a dragon's. This is the last stage." She forced a smile to appear on her face. "Jaun looked cheerful, and his eyes looked beautiful. I think it'll be a long time before they come slits. Who knows? He might become the longest survivor and by then, a cure would have been created."

"You really think so?" Carlos practically pleaded.

"I really do," Lyra lied, inhaling a breath. "You both need to be strong for Jaun. We still have the second test to do to confirm and if he tragically does, the treatments hurt. A lot. You both need to be strong and be there for him throughout. Hold his hand the entire time."

"We will," Carlos assured. "Of course we will. He's our son! He'll always be our son. We will never leave him alone."

"But he's so young," Maria whispered, peaking through the room window where Jaun was still playing with his toy dragon. "He's so young. We celebrated his fourth birthday just last month and now--" she closed her eyes, taking in slow breaths to compose herself before reopening them. "He's only a child. He has his whole life ahead of him."

"I'm so sorry," Lyra repeated quietly.

"It's not your fault," Maria said sternly. "So don't say sorry."

"And neither is it yours," Lyra stated firmly. "So don't blame yourselves."

She received silence in response, both parents staring as their son played through the window with a muted demeanour as if trying to embed and sear these precious moments into the depths of their mind forever.

"I'll go get the second test," Lyra announced softly, getting a nod of acknowledgement from Carlos, allowing her to spin on her heels and walk towards a nurse to order the test.

When Lyra apparated to the cottage late that night, she found Lucius in his room, packing a bag of his belongings for the expedition that would start from the next day.

At the sound of her footsteps, Lucius swivelled to face her, frowning when he noticed her crestfallen countenance. "Lyra?" He approached her but she felt numb.

Lucius gently cupped Lyra's cheeks, gazing into her eyes with concern, mind whirling to come up with an explanation for her sadness. Noting that she was still wearing her grey, healer robes, he resignedly asked, "Who?"

"He's four, Lucius. Four." She walked past him with moist eyes, brushing shoulders and plopped herself onto his bed. Lucius sat beside her in silence before Lyra broke it, "His name in Jaun. He's four. He has dragon pox."

"The fatal kind?" Lucius asked quietly.

"The fatal kind."

"Oh." He was unsure about how to comfort her.

Despite being a healer for months now, whenever one of her patients were diagnosed with an incurable illness, Lyra wouldn't be herself for many days. It was advised that she detach herself from the patients and Lucius dearly hoped, for her sake, that she heeded it in the future.

Lyra cried, Lucius held her, neither of them spoke because words were not required.

Later, when Lyra was playing with her late dinner with a fork rather than eating it, Lucius said, "Maybe he'll be different. Maybe this boy will be the one to develop resistance through one of Lady Hecate's magickal miracles. Maybe his body produces an antibody against this variant of dragon pox. Maybe a cure will be found soon-- some sort of potion or rune. Maybe he'll set a new record of life span with the disease. Maybe he'll surpass us all in terms of immunity. Maybe he'll outlive us."

Lyra half-smiled at his futile attempt to cheer her up. "Hopefully, yes."

But Jaun didn't end up out-living them.

Jaun did not respond to any of the treatments, was allergic to one of the key ingredients used in making one of the potions used to delay the inevitable and passed away peacefully in his sleep two days later.

Lyra attended his funeral along with Lucius. His coffin had been so small, he had had his whole life stolen from him and Lyra couldn't contain the tears that welled in her eyes. After offering condolences to Jaun's parents, she left a bouquet containing red roses and a combination of pink and white valerians on his grave.

Jaun was a wildflower. Jaun is loved.